Head in the clouds
by GayforKurt
Summary: Ten years after leaving Lima, Kurt has found fame and fortune. Life should have been great, but what is success without love – or a reasonable facsimile? A Kurtofsky story set in the not too distant future.


Head in the clouds

By GayforKurt

Summary: Ten years after leaving Lima, Kurt has found fame and fortune. Life should have been great, but what is success without love – or a reasonable facsimile? A Kurtofsky story set in the not too distant future.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. In my world, bullies would be strung up by the short and curlies from the first offense. Seriously!

CHAPTER ONE

The sound of traffic was muted but Kurt Hummel, celebrated event planner and formerly of Lima, Ohio, enjoyed the ever-present hum of life in Manhattan. The island was a far cry from home, which the 28-year-old fashionista rarely visited these days.

His spacious and wonderfully expensive luxury apartment was graced with floor to ceiling windows along two walls, affording him a breathtaking view of which he never tired. In fact, he had placed an immense white leather sofa smack in the center so he could enjoy the view. Sunset and dusk were his favorite times to watch the city's changing face, a hypnotic transgression from light to dark that still fascinated after all this time. He also enjoyed the symbolism of being above most of the rest of the world, a demigod looking down at mere mortals.

Kurt could afford this fabulous three-bedroom, two-storey apartment because his clientele was skewed heavily towards the ultra-rich and famous. His unique eye for what was stylish, elegant and classy drew the moneyed denizens of both coasts like flies to honey. The fact that he, himself, looked the part in his sometimes outrageous, ultra-chic designer ensembles didn't hurt either. The very rich loved to surround themselves with the highly talented and the eccentric.

Kurt's firm catered to the rich and entitled, certainly, but he treated them as if he were doing them a favor by expending his valuable time and talent on them. They ate up his Queen Bitch attitude and paid through the nose for it. They knew that they were getting the absolute best. When they wanted to impress each other and the rest of the world with their wealth, they engaged Kurt's services, knowing that no matter the event it would be the talk of the town.

The press, too, lapped up the extravagances displayed at almost all of Kurt's events. The not-so-rich and famous loved to get a peek at how 'the other half' lived. Kurt was even on first-name terms with some of the editors of several prestigious newspapers and magazines; conversely, rarely if ever did he know the names of the lowly reporters and photographers dispatched to cover a Kurt Hummel event.

Swathed in one of his favorite thick, fluffy robes, Kurt sprawled on the expansive and sinfully comfortable sofa, sipped delicately from a Waterford champagne flute and tried to relax. Some of his favorite Broadway CDs were playing in the background but still, after the frightful day he had had catering to Manhattan's elite, relaxation was hard to come by. He had made the mistake of taking on another job today, even though he had promised himself a much-needed break.

He had planned to finally take a short though unannounced trip back to Lima to see his family so he could rest and recharge. He absolutely adored living and working in Manhattan but sometimes he just wanted to be Kurt, not Kurt Hummel, Event Planner Extraordinaire. His assistant, Vivian, however, had begged him to take this job as she was a friend of the bride-to-be, a former college roommate. Kurt had agreed, though somewhat reluctantly, because he knew he had found a treasure in Vivian and was darned lucky some other firm hadn't snaffled her away from him already. Besides, he really liked her and they got along famously.

Kurt sipped at his wine and thought back over the years – drifting into a light doze as hazy images glided across his mind's eye.

Ten years after shaking the dust of Lima off his well-shod feet, Kurt had founded his now sought-after event-planning business. In the six years since leaving college where he had acquired an expensive arts degree, his still youthful-looking fair-skinned face had been on the cover of several industry magazines. Also, every so often – to his father Burt's dismay – he had inevitably been the subject of the ubiquitous paparazzi when he had been seen out and about with other famous gay celebrities. Kurt was used to having his love life plastered in the pages of the gossip rags but he wasn't enough of a fame whore to appreciate that fact.

Still, Kurt's heart had remained untouched and the nickname that was whispered behind his back was 'Manhattan's Ice Queen'. Though speculation was rife after the latest break-up with the hot young star of a popular television drama, Kurt himself had remained mum on the reason behind another of his failed _affaires_.

Now the one-time aspiring Broadway star (though he'd never really pursued his dream to perform on the Great White Way) continued to sip at his wine and reflect on the changes the past ten years had brought about. He was fairly content these days with the path his life had taken but the starry-eyed teenager from Lima, Ohio, still lurked somewhere in him. He was still just the tiniest bit saddened at that particular dream deferred.

He thought of Rachel who had made it into exactly two off-off Broadway musicals before giving up and high-tailing it back to Lima and settling down with Finn. Finn Hudson, Kurt's stepbrother, now helped to run Hummel-Hudson Automotive after Burt Hummel's semi-retirement five years ago. His dad, Burt and Finn's mom Carole, sometimes visited Kurt in Manhattan for very short vacations, not wanting to spend too much time away from their grandchildren. Finn and Rachel, née Berry, had presented them with twin boys, a state of affairs that never ceased to amuse Kurt.

During her pregnancy, Rachel – ever the annoying know-it-all – had read somewhere that expectant mothers could predict the gender of their unborn children from the shape of their stomachs. She just **knew** she was pregnant with girls; or at least one would be a girl, she amended, when they found out to their shock she was expecting twins. When the squalling red-faced infants made their debut, the presence of that darned Y-chromosome in both babies finally shut up the diva wannabe. Finn, over the moon with his lookalike boys, promptly named them Jacob and Joseph. Of course, Burt shortened them to Jay and Joey.

Kurt smiled in reminiscence at the antics of the three-year old terrors. While Jay seemed destined to be Finn all over again from his eating habits – chewing with his mouth open – Joey, his younger brother by fifteen minutes, looked to be a miniature version of Rachel, at least vocally. He never seemed to stop crying. He could even squeeze a few tears out whenever he wanted something he shouldn't have. Yes, Kurt had found the toddlers to be quite a handful the last time they and their parents visited, but he loved them as if they were his own.

While his family flourished back in Lima, Kurt's own life seemed to be stagnating. Oh yes, he had money now and a profession he had fallen in love with. Yes, his beloved loft had a square footage to make anyone green with envy, not to mention the divine walk-in closet in the master bedroom that was larger than his old bedroom back home. And, yes, he had entrée into any eatery in the fashionable areas of the most fashionable city on the planet but, dammit, he was lonely. He would die, however, before admitting this to his family and any of his so-called friends.

His mind tonight seemed determined to have him walk down memory lane and he was just tired enough to let it. Usually he would have derailed that tendency with work but, for some reason, he was feeling self-indulgent and melancholy. 'Maybe I am broody,' he smiled darkly, remembering Vivian's joke earlier in the day. She was his right-hand, his Girl Friday and his best friend. She reminded him so much of his closest friend in high school, Mercedes, and Kurt regretted having allowed the years to distance him from the people with whom he had been close all those years ago.

Really, it had been his fault that he had lost touch with 'Cedes, as he used to call her teasingly. She had been the only one who really had seemed to understand him. Her generous heart had allowed them to remain friends even after he had told her he was gay. In fact, most of the other members of the school's glee club had never really had a problem with him being gay. Only the few members who had been popular jocks on the school's football team had briefly acted weird around him. Eventually they had 'gotten over' it.

No, the dark spots of his high school years had seen him being lifted and flung into the school's dumpsters, and ice-cold, semi-frozen beverages thrown into his often unsuspecting face by jeering, hulking football and hockey players. Things had become so painful for him at one point that he had left McKinley for a short while and attended the prestigious private school, Dalton Academy in Westerville, Ohio. When he couldn't take the estrangement from his glee club, New Directions, and the distance from his family and friends any longer, Kurt convinced his dad to let him return to McKinley.

Kurt never regretted returning to McKinley and the remainder of his junior year and the following senior year were quieter and less painful. The incidents of bullying had fallen off drastically as the ringleader, David Karofsky, had done an about-face. Seeking redemption, apparently instigated by threat and bribery from Santana, a fiery glee club member with her own agenda, Karofsky had told Kurt that he would protect him from the other jocks' bullying. Later, after a tear-filled apology that stunned and moved Kurt, the two boys had begun to develop a tentative friendship that was cut short when Dave moved away for his senior year of high school.

The short break from McKinley had a very bright spot in it for Kurt because it was there he had met the unofficial lead singer of Dalton's glee club, the Warblers. Blaine Anderson was a gorgeous, dark-haired, olive-skinned boy whose voice never failed to move Kurt. He immediately developed a crush on Blaine though, at first, Blaine never even realized this. Eventually, the boys really fell in love and when Kurt moved back to McKinley, Blaine followed for his senior year.

Unfortunately, Kurt and Blaine's relationship fizzled. Kurt realized years later that they had just been too much alike. While they genuinely had a deep affection for one another, the relationship was not very passionate. Their love-making was sweet and tender but Kurt knew, deep down, that he wanted – no, craved – fireworks and passion. Blaine made love to him as if he would break; he wanted to wrap Kurt in cotton wool. Blaine wanted the poetry of romance; Kurt wanted to be flung up against the wall and fucked. Plain and simple.

A pattern had been set it seemed, however, because every relationship after Blaine was as vanilla as could be. This is not to say that Kurt wanted whips and chains and piercings, hell no! All he wanted, really, was to feel alive. He wanted orgasms that would make his head feel as if it would explode. He wanted not to be able to remember his name for at least ten minutes afterwards.

Besides that, Kurt wanted a true partner. He wanted a real man who would not be intimidated by Kurt's towering ego, his undeniable talent and, most of all, his wealth. He didn't know where he would find this paragon but he believed in his heart of hearts that someone MUST be out there for him.

Kurt Hummel, closet romantic, gazed at the exciting Manhattan landscape before him and craved something equally fabulous in his love life. Blushing at his internal hand-wringing, he nevertheless admitted to himself – 'I do want it all!'

KDKDKDKDKDKDKDKDKD

David Karofsky walked out of the meeting with his agent, his lawyer and his team's management with a pleased smirk lurking in his green eyes. The multi-million dollar contract he had just signed had satisfied all parties and, on top of signing up to play for another five years with a top-flight team, he would also get a small percentage of the shares for being the poster boy for the new gay pro athlete. Positive public reaction had influenced the board's decision after he had come out; being their top earner had squashed any latent homophobia that might have surfaced.

The press conference where he had announced he was gay had been a world-wide sensation, apparently, as even now – in the year 2022 – not many gay professional athletes had had the courage to come out. Professional sports had been one of the last bastions against homosexuality; this despite the fact that gay marriage had been accepted for some time. Even the hot potato topic of Don't Ask, Don't Tell was now a hoary chestnut, not worth many column inches either in print or on the Internet.

The timing had been perfect, in Dave's opinion. He had been growing tired of pretending interest in women simply to satisfy his team's backward mentality and, just as his contract was coming up for renewal, politicians on the campaign trail had started jumping on the bandwagon once more, begging for the gay dollar to help finance their ambitions. Where once they would have whored themselves to big corporations and civil rights interests, they were now turning to wealthy, influential gay movers and shakers. Dave couldn't have been more pleased.

As he walked he started loosening the expensive designer tie his lawyer had insisted he wear, complementing the no doubt equally expensive suit he had poured his muscular body into. He knew he looked good; calm, commanding, respectable. Appearance was very important, he knew, and just very briefly, his mind flashed to Kurt Hummel and he chuckled when he recalled how the fashion-conscious teen had once sneered at him and called him, what was it again? Oh yes, 'sweaty and chubby'.

While Dave had legitimate reason as a professional football player to be sweaty most of the time, no one in his right mind could call Dave 'The Fury' Karofsky chubby. Though he wasn't one of the largest players in the sport, Dave was built. His muscles had muscles, according to one awe-struck former lover who had spent much of their time in bed tracing those same muscles with worshipping lips and tongue.

Kurt's angry words to him had hurt, even though Dave knew he had more than deserved the boy's ire and more. When he had finally grown a pair and apologized to Kurt some time later for his horrible treatment of him, Kurt had shocked him with his understanding and compassion. If Dave hadn't already been half in love with the slender teen, the unexpected sympathy in Kurt's beautiful eyes would have done the job. For years after, whenever Dave remembered his high school days, he would see Kurt's eyes and wish with all his heart that things had been different between them. It would be safe to say that Dave Karofsky wanted to be more to Kurt than his one-time bully.

These days, Dave's only connection to Kurt was when he picked up a magazine and saw that haughty, porcelain smooth face staring back up at him. He knew everything about Kurt since their high school graduation. He himself hadn't been there, having transferred to another school for senior year, but everything after that he had made it his business to find out. He knew when Kurt broke up with Blaine after high school and before college; he knew when Kurt had graduated with his fine arts degree; he even knew when Kurt broke up with his various and subsequent lovers.

Later on, when Kurt had started his business – Kurt Hummel Events – Dave made it his business to know which events to avoid so he wouldn't run into him. Dave's heavy training and game schedule didn't always allow him the opportunity to do a lot of partying, but when his own star had begun its ascendancy, he and some of the other members of his team were often invited to celebrity-studded affairs. He knew that the odds of completely avoiding Kurt were next to impossible. Still, he had managed to sidestep some of the more high-profile events, especially when he knew Kurt would be in attendance.

As he, his agent and lawyer parted ways with a round of handshakes and backslaps outside of the gleaming high-rise office building where they had just completed this latest bit of extremely lucrative business, David had only one thing in mind: meet up with his sister for a drink and chat. He then needed to head back to his mid-town Manhattan apartment to get out of this restrictive get-up. Seriously, he didn't know how people wore them every day without going crazy.

Dave hadn't seen Patricia in nearly a year, having missed the mini family reunion at Christmas back in Lima. She was nearly eight years older than him and had gone away to college when Dave was ten. While there she met and married a guy none of them had known or even met. Young Dave remembered how upset his parents had been but he, being just a kid, couldn't understand why. It seemed, however, their fears had been justified as, after several hysterical calls just four months after the wedding, Pat had divorced the guy. Dave couldn't even remember his name.

Dave and Pat didn't have a whole lot in common but they got along fairly well. She had been very proud of him when he had been picked in the first round for a major league team when in college. Though she had landed a job with an investment banking firm, Pat had tried to see him play as often as she could manage, sometimes even going to Lima to pick up their dad and they would fly out to watch him assist his team in scoring touchdown after touchdown.

When Dave stepped into the bar where they had decided to meet, Pat jumped up to hug him, a huge smile splitting her face. "David, oh my god, sweetie, it's so great to see you!"

Dave wrapped his long arms around his sister's trim form, lifting her in a bear hug and planting a smacking kiss on the side of her forehead. "Hey, little sis, how've you been?"

She smacked him on the arm when he set her down and adjusted her stylish jacket. "Oh, you. I'm an old lady compared to you. You look great, sweetie!"

David did look well, she thought, as she took in his tall, strong body. His gorgeous green/hazel eyes were shining with happiness and she could tell he was in a great mood. She wondered briefly if he was seeing anyone but she didn't like to pry… well, not too much!

David caught the eye of the hovering waiter and when they had given their order, turned to his big sis. "No, I'm not seeing anyone. Wasn't that what you were about to ask me?" He took a quick sip from his water goblet and looked up at her, mischief lighting his eyes as he took in the surprised look on her face.

"No! Why did you think I'd want to pry into your business, kiddo?" She paused and then relented. "Alright, alright, I was going to ask why you looked so happy. I just figured maybe you'd found someone special and were going to, I don't know, introduce me?"

Smiling at the slightly disappointed pout she was displaying, Dave shook his head. He waited for their server to put down their drinks and then, just as he was about to tease her some more, he caught a gleam on her finger.

"Wow, is that a rock on your finger, sis?" David reached over to gently grasp her hand, bringing the dazzler forward for a closer look. He was no expert but that was quite a sparkler she was sporting. The emerald-cut yellow diamond set in white gold was beautiful!

"That's why I wanted to meet up with you, sweetie. I'm getting married!" Her delighted expression was contagious and Dave laughed, genuinely happy for her. She had been alone for years since her divorce but Dave hadn't even known she was dating.

"So who's the lucky guy?" Dave asked.

Pat blushed and eased back her hand, fiddling with the cutlery in front of her. She took a sip of her drink before she answered quietly. "Oh, I've been seeing him for a little while but I didn't think it would go anywhere, you know?"

She looked up at Dave and sighed. "Then last week, out of the blue, he popped the question!"

"Were you out on a date or what? And what's his name, by the way?" Dave thought it was a little odd that he had to pull the information out of her.

Pat sort of ducked her head and answered, "It's Jeremy, Jeremy Hallandsby."

David gaped at her, his mouth open slightly. "As in Hallandsby and Associates?"

"Yes, David, I'm marrying the boss." Pat looked up at him, slightly on the defensive as she fiddled with her napkin.

Dave didn't know how to respond to this information; his sister marrying her boss and the head of the firm, to boot, was not what he was expecting. Still, she looked really happy so he would be happy for her.

"I am happy for you, sis, I was just, I mean, it's kinda cliché, isn't it?" He smiled at her to show he didn't mean this in an unkind way. She shrugged and smiled at him.

"Yeah, I got the same reaction from my friends but, he's very good to me and he's the kindest person. Being rich doesn't mean you have to be an asshole, you know," she declared, picking up the menu their server had left with the drinks.

Taking his cue from her, Dave perused his menu as well, trying to figure what would be good while sticking to his diet. For years he had watched what he ate, though he wasn't obsessive about it. He didn't indulge in the beer and pizza diet that most of his teammates wallowed in because he realized he felt better and played great when he was at his optimum weight.

They ordered, sat and chatted about inconsequential things until their meal arrived. The heavenly smells wafting from their plates made them realize they were ravenous so they concentrated on the food. When they had cleared most of the meal, Pat looked up at Dave and smiled.

"Wow, I definitely can't eat like this every day if I'm going to fit into my wedding dress." She patted her waist, which to Dave looked in no danger of expanding, and closed her utensils. "I have to meet with my wedding planner tomorrow and go over all this stuff that I thought I had left in the past."

Dave nodded, still chewing, and when he had swallowed, smiled at her slightly anxious expression. "Don't worry; I hear that these planners handle just about everything for you. Just let them know what you like and what you don't, then turn up on the day."

Pat laughed out loud and swatted him lightly on the hand. "Yeah, right, that would be a recipe for disaster!"

They chuckled for a bit then she looked at her watch and sighed. "I have to get back to work. Jeremy and I haven't set a definite date as yet but I know it has to be within the next month. What does your schedule look like?"

Dave frowned at her as he placed his credit card in the folder with the check. "I don't give a damn about the schedule! I'm not going to miss this wedding for anything. Remember, you cheated me out of the first one."

"Yeah, yeah," she pretended to reach over and slap him upside the head. "Get over it, why don'tcha? Anyway, I want you to meet Jeremy before the wedding. Can you meet up with us tomorrow at the wedding planner's?"

"Sure, I don't need to go down to the training camp for another couple of days. I thought I'd just chill for a bit before heading back, take in a play or two, y'know, maybe link up with a couple of my cronies."

She tilted her head to the side and sized him up. "Hmmm, a booty call, maybe?"

Dave flushed and looked down at the table, a little frown between his eyebrows. "Nah, I've not been hooking up or anything for a while. Training takes up all my time these days."

Pat knew her 'baby' brother was somewhat shy, despite his success and near celebrity status. Meeting new people and making friends just did not come easily to him. How much harder it must be for him to make a romantic connection, she could not imagine.

Like siblings everywhere, she decided to try and rib him a bit, get him to smile again. He had a beautiful smile, one you didn't see very often, as he was more inclined to wear his big, macho persona as protective armor.

"What, a gorgeous, not to mention rich, pro 'baller like you is without a date? Come on, baby bro, pull the other one."

Dave laughed, collected his credit card and pocketed it along with the receipt their waiter had left. As he rose from the table, a small piece of paper fluttered to the floor. He bent over to pick it up but Pat was quicker as she was still seated.

Her eyebrows flew upward. "Hey, it seems you've made an impression on our handsome young waiter." She held the slip of paper away from him, laughing at his scowl. "Oooh, his name is Derek. Do you want his number?"

While she was teasing him he grabbed the paper and looked at it then up at the waiter who was walking away, a decided sway to his pert butt. Dave colored a bit and crumpled the paper, pushing it into his pocket.

"Come on, wench. Let's get you back to dear Jeremy!"

They left the bar arm in arm, still chuckling softly. Outside they hugged and promised to text each other. He needed the address for the wedding planner if he was going to meet Pat and her fiancé the next day. As she walked away, he moved to the curb to hail a cab. Dave reflected on how fast things could change on the one hand, and on the other, things sometimes seemed to just stand still, caught in a grey pall, flat and unchanging. Pat was getting married a second time and here he was, reluctant to even return the casual attentions of an attractive man.

He needed to get a life.

TBC


End file.
